DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Gueniver and is copyright (c) 2003 by Gueniver. Rated NC17.
Drops of Jupiter
"Spock, would you just stop!" She threw her hands up in disgust and moved angrily away from him. "I'm going into the water to wash off. I don't care if it's subzero. I will not spend the rest of the night with you picking undigested seeds out of my hair! And let me tell you something else, sir, if you plan on sleeping within 10 meters of me you'll do the same."
Spock eyed the ice-rimmed water with dismay. It was illogical to dangerously lower one's body temperature for vanity's sake. While the thick brown goo was distasteful to the extreme, it did not appear to have a detrimental effect. He was about to say as much but the fire in her eyes stopped him and instead he clamped his mouth shut and resignedly began to remove his heavily soiled clothing as well.
She flung the blue jumpsuit at a rock near the water where it landed with a heavy 'slop' sound. She was so angry at the moment she didn't even hesitate to step into the water, was nearly thigh deep before she realized how painfully cold it really was. She turned to tell him something, perhaps that she was wrong, perhaps that he'd better come in and get it over with. He couldn't tell.
She froze at the sight of him and her jaw dropped slightly. Her anger dissolved and he could feel the warm humor of her thoughts in his mind once again. The absence of her anger bolstered his courage and he stepped quickly into the icy water as well.
With a yelp and a gasp they dunked under the water for a moment and vigorously rubbed the muck from one another. The water helped immensely, but it was so cold that they could barely feel their fingers.
After a few quick moments they were out of the water shivering and gasping in the cold air, their breath created thick fog around them. Spock stiffly raised a hand to brush the wet hair from her eyes. His hands seemed unwilling to cooperate in the cold.
"Oh, Spock. I'm sorry. I was so mad about that stupid sloth I just couldn't stand it anymore."
Spock only nodded shivering and tried to draw her into an embrace. It was intended to be comforting, but she immediately noted the sluggishness of his movement and began rubbing his skin to brush water off of him and increase the circulation.
His teeth chattered, "Chr-rristine. P-please stop that. I w-wish to hold you for a moment."
She stopped immediately and held him tightly willing heat into him. "Damnable animal. I can't thank you enough for digging me out of there. I can't imagine what it must have been like, what you were thinking. I don't think I want to know." She shuddered with cold and horror.
He shivered in her arms but warmed a bit at her touch. "My thoughts were only that Enterprise would lose a highly valuable doctor were I not to act quickly."
She didn't even pretend to believe him but rather ignored his attempt at humor. "It was my own stupid fault. I shouldn't have been standing so close to the tree when I was scanning."
He squeezed a bit more water from her hair and smoothed it down affectionately. "There was no way you could have know what was about to happen."
"Actually..." a pained expression crossed her face. "I was doing a bio scan on the big lug. I should have been paying better attention."
He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Indeed? And what was more fascinating than the excretory function of an abnormally large sloth?"
She smiled slyly, knowing already that he knew. "Oh, I don't know, maybe it was your specimen collecting stance."
"To what do you refer, Doctor?" His second brow joined the first in the wet line of his bangs as he pretended innocence.
"Why, Mr. Spock, my dear. I believe you were intentionally wagging your posterior in my general direction."
"Vulcans do not wag, Christine. Nor do they wiggle or wave their posteriors."
She giggled, "Well, it was a lovely little dance then."
Humor flicked in his eyes even as he opened his mouth to continue to deny the action. He appeared so convincing she almost actually believed him.
"Well, that doesn't really matter at the moment. We need to get busy. The sun is already setting and we need to get you someplace warm," she said with a loving squeeze.
Spock released her and turned toward the hillside at their backs. "There are caves in the cliff, we could seek shelter there."
Christine gathered up the uniforms and turned to the icy water. She had her feet at water's edge, dropped the pungent fabric into the water to rinse the sticky goo from the clothing.
Spock continued to scan the hillside for lodging options. Christine's anger flared in his mind an instant before the curses flew, "Shit-shit-shit!"
He looked scandalized. "Christine, I do not approve of such language."
She stood angrily and flung something into the water. "No! Look at this --this shit! Look what it did!"
He looked at the tatters in her fingers. The threads seemed to be dissolving in her hands.
"Fascinating," he said, moving a step closer for a better look. What he noticed first was the threads in dissolving strings sliding from her hands. Then he noted the grip of her fingers tightening and tightening on the remnants of the garment. His eyes traveled up to her face and the look he found abruptly ended his scientific query.
"Got a good look at it, Spock?" she fumed.
He swallowed and nodded.
"Good," she hissed and she dropped the tatters on the ground near the water's edge next to the heavy black goo that was once their boots. "Then let's get our equipment and find a place to--"
He stood stock still as her anger grew.
She seemed to look right through him. "Spock, where is your phaser?"
"I believe it was buried in the pile of--"
"Damnit Spock, is your tricorder in there too?"
"It would be logical to presume so." She groaned angrily and began marching into the darkening forest. Spock grabbed her arm to stop her. "Where are you going?"
"To get the phaser."
"It is inadvisable to return to the area, Christine. Nocturnal predators will most certainly be hunting soon."
"Which is why I want a phaser."
"We can retrieve the phaser in the morning."
"Its going to get a helluva lot colder, Spock. We can use the phaser to kick up some heat."
"A more likely outcome is that one or both of us will be attacked while shoveling the--"
"Shit!" She slapped a hand against her neck.
"I just got bit by something! Damnit, it looks like the night bugs are out too. Alright, fine. We go in the morning." She sighed and crossed her arms against herself. A cool damp breeze blew in over the water.
Spock shivered as well. He pointed to a cave up the hillside. "There, that one appears to be promising."
"Well, there's no time like the present." she said and began marching up the hill.
Spock shot a glance over his shoulder at the pile of protective wear. It was going to be a cold night.
Christine was far too angry to move slowly up the dry hillside. The path was well worn from humanoid traffic but pebbles and dirt slid down the hill at Spock, pelting him softly. He didn't comment, but did keep his gaze down to lower the probability that the dirt would get in his eyes.
The path zig zagged up the hill four times coming to a line of rough cave dwellings. The preliminary data indicated that the area was peppered with temporary domiciles. The native humanoid population being nomadic, the residences were unoccupied at this time of the year. Although by Terran standards the cold weather was uncomfortable, by Gavno standards it was the depth of winter in this region and there was little chance that a humanoid would return.
The mission had been simple enough, although in retrospect Spock began to question his motive for bringing Dr. Chapel alone. He had been able to explain it quite logically to the captain and the science staff. No one suspected that it had also been a convenient opportunity to be alone with her.
Two landing parties were beamed down to survey the area from opposite sides of the valley. There was preliminary data that indicated that a natural occurring medicinal mineral concentrated in the plant life and further concentrated in the animal life. Of course Spock was always the dutiful officer, this was no time for juvenile behavior. But he had to admit it was quite pleasant to simply act naturally with her. There were no judgments from the Gavnovian wildlife if he decided to address her as "Christine". No one would know if he did play a bit. A very little bit.
She stopped before a rough door into the side of the mountain. There was no apparent latch so she attempted to push it in. Spock caught up to her at that moment. "Pull," he said, pointing to a symbol on the center of the door.
She cut her eyes at him and drew in a shivering breath. "Where?"
He reached forward and up to the upper edge of the door. The lip that sealed the door from the cold curved outward and served as a door handle as well. She rolled her eyes and stomped into the darkness. Spock looked down into the rapidly dimming valley below for a last look at the horizon. No sign of the second landing party, but likewise no sign of predators.
The room that he entered was as cold as the night air outside, but it was no longer dark. A dim phosphorescent glow had lit the room from an open basket on a table in the center of the room. Christine was shuffling around in the corner of the room. She seemed to be moving unnaturally fast.
Spock attempted to take stock of the situation. The cold of the stone floor seemed to travel through his feet and up to his brain numbing his mind. The cave was a single room with a rough wooden table in the center and a thick woven mat that appeared to serve as a sleeping pallet in the corner. A crude wooden box near the door lay open and was full of what appeared to be various hunting implements and wooden crafted eating utensils.
Spock focused on them trying to identify their individual function.
"Spock, come here." Christine commanded.
She had been moving far more quickly than he was. Indeed, she appeared to have been working for some time in the room, while he had stood dumbly watching her. The pallet was now covered with several layers of furs and woven cloth.
He turned to secure the door, but found that it was already bolted. Christine had already moved behind him and bolted it. He turned to say something to her at the bed, but quite suddenly she was at his elbow. It was perplexing how she popped in at his side. He wanted to question her about this new supernatural ability, but he couldn't seem to find the words.
"C'mon, love. Let's get you warmed up," she said gently as she was pulling him to the pallet.
He wanted to say something to her, but couldn't think of what it was. His feet didn't want to move. It wasn't painful exactly. It was just impossible to force his numb limbs into motion. After a slow clumsy shuffle the rough cold blankets were quite welcome. For all intents and purposes he simply collapsed onto the floor, blessedly into a space on the mat.
Christine was pulling him close and rubbing him from head to toe with every inch of her body. She lay atop him talking to him softly, trying to encourage him to warm up.
"C'mon, big guy. I know I'm not exactly an Orion dancing girl, but you could at least pretend you like it," she teased. She blew heavily on his hands in turn and rubbed his face with her cheek like a cat aching for a petting. "I'm so sorry I made you get into that water. C'mon, don't go dying of hypothermia on me. You'll never have the chance to berate me for illogical behavior if you do."
Her words were playful, but he could feel her worried fearfulness just as clearly in his mind. Hazards of being a touch telepath she had told him once, last week? The week before?
Her ministrations were not in vain. He could feel his body awakening under her touch. The painful cry of nerves warming in pins and needles began in his toes and crept up his thighs to his belly. He realized now that he had been shivering quite hard under her as the quaking began to ease. Another deep breath and reason seemed to come back into focus. He was cold. Damn cold, as McCoy would say. But he was warming.
She rubbed and rubbed his arms now and he moved them up to encircle her. She was cold as well, but together they warmed up quite nicely.
"There you are, you big lug. You scared the hell out of me." She batted his arm playfully, but her mind was still full of concern.
His teeth were chattering in a highly comical fashion, so he decided not to speak. He clumsily pulled the fur up over their heads to conserve their body heat. His hand came to rest on her still wet hair. He brushed it behind her ear and out of his face so that he could kiss her lightly. A thank you of sorts.
She wriggled against him playfully now, still shivering but not willing to miss an opportunity to play. There were precious few moments together like this.
He rested his fingers over the meld position on her face and paused. "May I?" he asked.
She laughed. "Of course," she whispered.
And with the lightness of a breeze his mind slipped into hers. It was easier each time to find her. No words were necessary, no ritual mumbo jumbo.
/You know, you don't have to ask *every* time,/ her mind's voice chimed to him.
/I do and I shall, every time. I will not do to you what others have done./ His mind's voice was somber and cool.
Memories of the violations of body and mind were the reality of their relationship. Parmen and the Platonians had violated their dignity, controlled their bodies. Henoch had violated their minds and left them with terrible uncertainties about what he had done with their bodies. But the Orion pirates' violation had been the unforgettable horror that had cost them each almost two years. Now, even in love the memories had power. He would not step over that line.
His somber tone cooled her gentle passion. /Spock, my dear. You are not any of those people, you could never hurt me like that,/ she assured him.
But the memory of just what each of them were capable of was there too, lingering in the shadows of the mind.
/Christine./ His mind reached to hers. It was a kiss or an embrace of the mind. A reassuring touch, a gentle caress intended to both comfort and distract. /Warm, sweet, Christine./
She laughed at that and kissed him. She shifted lightly above him, no longer covering his body for warmth. She spread her thighs slightly to rest her knees on the mat and raised herself up over him onto her elbows. A cold draft through the furs made them both shiver.
/It is quite cold, Christine,/ as he projected a request for her to please lie down under the blanket.
/I know, I just wanted to look at you for a moment,/ she smiled sweetly and an image of what she saw flashed in his mind. /Your hair is a mess,/ her mind's voice was smug and laughing all at once.
/I will not comment on your appearance,/ he thought at her.
Her smile was a ripple of sunlight and honeysuckle /I love to hear you in my mind./
His face softened slightly but she could feel his copper and cinnamon smile in this mind. /I would join with you in other ways, Christine. If you wish it./
She lowered herself down and kissed him softly. /You know I do. You can feel it. Just as I feel it./ She squirmed against his hardening member. /You don't have to ask me./
His mouth moaned against hers. A response to her soft hands in his hair, her tongue insistently probing his mouth. His mind's tone was strained, as his voice would be could he speak, /Beloved, I shall never take what is not freely given./
She laughed against his mouth and there was wicked laughter all around him. /What if I do a little taking?/ and not waiting for a response she was moving against him.
He was slow still from the cold and she was more than willing to take the lead, raking her mouth over his, undulating her body against his skin. With sensual grace she arched her back and lifted her hips above his, positioning him to slip into her. Spock held one hand on her temple, maintaining the deep link with her, his eyes closed with concentration against the waves of pleasure that already spread with warming blood through his body.
/Hmm…how do you wake a Vulcan from deep-- / She lowered herself slowly down on his swollen erection with a flash of sexual imagery that would make a sailor blush. / - deep sleep?/
He gasped at the sensation of her body on his. With his free hand he pulled her shoulders down and slid his hand to her hip. He thrust up into her, insistently seeking more.
She rocked against him slowly, moaning now as the pressure rose. /- with gentle strokes,/ she continued.
He allowed a small flash of humor to ripple through the meld. It was the only warning she received. Then he was moving. His meld hand slid through her hair and pulled her smiling face to his where he captured her mouth in a most passionate kiss. His roaming hand firmly grasped her buttock and pulled her to him with a growl.
/No, Christine. You must use *long*/
-- and he thrust upward
-- again --
-- and again
-- and she gasped and cried out wordlessly. They were moving together faster, their breaths gasping in tempo with their sweet effort.
It may have been cold induced fatigue or the powerful imagery from Christine, but Spock's control slipped first. The pressure mounted and with a pained expression he stiffened under her and gasped her name. "Christine."
But Christine could not bear to watch as the ecstasy washed over his face. In an instant she was falling as well. "Oh, gods, Spock."
And they stiffened together, their physical pleasure reverberating through the meld like a throbbing tune on a Vulcan lyre.
After a moment of clutching and gasping the wave passed and the two sighed in near unison, collapsing together. "Oh, Spock, you are a wicked, wicked man," she murmured and she kissed him. He slipped his hands now slowly around her waist with a contented sigh. He thought briefly of a humorously flippant response. But decided instead to simply lie very still and enjoy the sensation of her warm skin on his. He kissed her cheek gently. The meld had dissipated in the wake of the shared pleasure. He longed for more, especially in moments like this, when the scent of her joy was so fresh in his mind.
"You are a remarkable woman, Christine."
She lifted her head and looked down into his dark eyes, puzzled by his serious tone. "Spock?"
He patted her hair reassuringly. "Thank you, for administering such effective hypothermia treatment, doctor. I am most satisfactorily revived." His tone was dead pan as always and after a beat he lifted one eyebrow. He was immediately rewarded by her giggle.
"I'm feeling a little tired myself." She smiled and disengaging herself from him as delicately as possible she snuggled down to rest her head on his shoulder. She tried to stifle a yawn.
He pulled the blanket up to seal out the frigid air and encircled her in his arms. "Then sleep," he whispered softly.
As she drifted off into slumber she thought she heard him murmur, "Sleep well, beloved."
* * *
The morning was as cold as the night. Although Christine was sure it was colder because there was no way to heat the room. She pulled the furs up over her head lazily snuggling against Spock's warm sleeping frame. She felt cold achy. Likely the result of being hit with the kilos of fecal matter the previous day. If it hadn't been so frightening it would have been laughable.
Well, she supposed sleepily, it was pretty laughable. She wondered how she would report it to the Captain.
/Well sir, it's like this. I was watching Spock's butt when a sloth took a monumental--/
"Good morning," Spock's voice murmured at her neck breaking her train of thought.
She raised a hand to pat him affectionately, whispering "You're awake already?"
As her hand impacted the side of his face she caught a lock of her own hair. The hair easily slid off of her head.
Her fingers brushed his scalp and they both sat bolt upright.
"Your hair!" she gasped staring in disbelief at a nearly hairless Vulcan.
He lifted a hand to her cheek. His shocked expression seemed all the more enhanced by the fact that his eyebrows were nearly gone. "You as well." He brushed his hand over her forehead and drew a handful of dark hair from her head.
Eyes wide she stammered, "I - I don't - understand-- What happened?"
"The sloth, undoubtedly." He looked down at the pile of hair on the straw mat. He picked up a bit of it for further inspection. "It would appear that there is some sort of acidic quality to the animal's waste."
The biologist in her quickly corrected him. "A digestive enzyme, probably. Same thing that happened to the uniforms." Her voice was sad.
She lifted her hand to his chest. It was nearly bare. Like a boy's chest. There didn't appear to be a rash or any sign of irritation. It was just bare. Her hand went lower still pulling the blanket back. "Well, it seems to have gotten everything," she said wryly.
He nodded gravely inspecting her as well, "Indeed."
She followed his gaze.
With a brush of a hand, the tuft of curls that had covered her pubic area for her entire life disappeared. It was a shocking sight, piles of hair littered the mat and the two could only stare in disbelief.
She shivered slightly and pulled the blanket up feeling suddenly more naked than before.
Spock lay down next to her dumbly and they stared at the cave ceiling in silence. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Neither was particularly vain. And certainly it was no worse than any other unexpected outcome of a landing party mission.
Christine took stock of the situation, even as Spock did the same. They were naked, utterly so. Their communication and defensive equipment was down in the thick damp forest. There were only two choices. They could stay where they were and wait for Enterprise to return tomorrow or they could go get their equipment.
Of course there really was no choice. Neither would permit the other to hide in this cave when they had a mission to accomplish.
Perhaps it was the close contact, or perhaps it was that they were both Starfleet officers, but when their minds were made up they simply rose from the pallet as one. Christine smiled suddenly feeling slightly awkward at the easy coincidence. Spock did not appear to notice, but she knew it warmed his heart to know that they were so well attuned in even the smallest of things.
Spock opened the door to the valley to assess the weather, Christine moved to the chest near the door.
"Well, there's no sign of clothing in here, but there's a couple of crude knives." She hefted a heavy iron cleaver. It appeared to be cast of some crude metal and then ground on a stone to sharpness, thick gouges in the cutting edge created an effective serrated knife. She turned to the pile of furs and mats that they had slept on. "I can cut that big skin in half. It won't be stylish, but with a little twine and a couple of knots we'll be a lot warmer." She was already moving to the bed to work.
Spock now rummaged through the hunting implements as well retrieving two notched spear throwers, some short spears and a smooth animal shoulder shovel. "It is most fortunate that the inhabitants have left behind such useful tools." The he approached Christine where she had spread the fur on the floor of the small room, fur side down. She was deciding how to best cut the skin for clothing.
"It's a shame to cut such a nicely cured fur." She looked at Spock out of the corner of her eye. She could sense his distaste at wearing the animal fur. She eyed the blankets again. "We could just double up the blankets. They're bulkier, but we'd be pretty warm."
He appeared to consider the two possibilities. As if in answer he moved to the pallet and lifted a pale rough blanked from the pile. She moved to his side and, sighing resignedly, she pulled one off the mat as well. With a bit of rope and a little help from each other, the pair was soon exiting the cave. They looked like nothing so much as a pair of Deltan primitives as they walked slowly down the hillside.
They paused at the rock where their uniforms had sat the night before. There was no trace of fabric just a small pile of nondescript hardware lay near the rock. A fastener of lightweight metal gleamed bright silver. Squatting, Christine tried to determine what it was. After a moment she recognized it as a clip from her brassiere. She rose up, deciding to come back for it later having no pocket to put it in now.
Spock stood patiently at the edge of the trail that led into the forest.
"Lead on, MacDuff!" she said pointing to the forest with her spear thrower and she fell into step behind him.
It was not a long distance to the clearing, but the two moved quietly and carefully. Each painfully aware of how vulnerable they were to animal attack and how poorly prepared they were for the cold damp weather. Christine's feet were freezing from the cold earth.
If she got much colder she would insist that they stop and warm up again. The pile was not hard to find. It gave off a classic animal waste scent. As in every other complete ecosystem the pile of partially digested food was already covered with the various denizens of the forest that depended on these gifts from the sky.
Spock wrinkled his nose at the smell but said nothing.
Christine's eyes began to water. "Good lord, it's gotten more pungent with age."
The pile was shaped in an immense crescent. A hole in the center marked where Christine had been buried, the low edge of the crescent still bore the footprints of Spock.
She poked the pile tentatively with her a stick. A small mound of goo broke free and revealed that the pile was teeming with small worm like animals. She shuddered involuntarily.
They exchanged a look of resignation. "No time like the present," Christine said and she hefted her blanket toga over her head. Spock eyed her for a moment. "If it ate the uniforms and our hair, it makes sense that it'll destroy our blankets as well. Doesn't it?"
With a tight mouth he nodded resignedly. The forest floor was well lit, but untouched by the sunlight. The leaves were icy cold underfoot. He did not relish the thought of working utterly naked in these conditions. But logic dictated that it would be a waste to destroy the little clothing that they had. Without a perceptible pause he too lifted the blanket over his head and if it was somewhat more slowly, Christine did not seem to notice.
She moved to the pile and began digging gingerly at the edge breathing audibly through her mouth. Spock noticed with a scientist's precision that the decaying matter was giving off a fetid heat. A result of bacteriological digestion of the animal's food, no doubt. He looked up and carefully surveyed the treetops, trying not to appear reluctant to touch the waste.
Christine was already ankle deep in thick muck as she rapidly picked away at the pile searching for any sign of their equipment. After a thorough search of the treetops Spock determined that there were no sloths in the general area. Indeed it appeared that they had moved some distance through the trees. The bent branches and ravaged treetops evidenced the animal's progress through the forest. It left a clear path of pale blue across the sky. Spock contemplated a scientific paper on the migratory patterns of the animal.
"Spock!" Christine barked.
He looked at her with a guilty start. It was most difficult to believe that she was angry. The accustomed markings of her face were now absent. Only her tone and the fact that her eyes seemed to become more icy cold in color seemed to indicate her displeasure.
"I could use a hand here!" and her tone brooked no argument.
With no other logical reason to delay, Spock stepped gingerly forward into the ooze.
"Dive right in, Sir." She smiled wickedly, "You get used to the smell after a while."
And Spock sighed and proceeded to dig in earnest in a vain hope that it would reduce the amount of time that they spent at the noisome task.
* * *
Greg Faron shifted nervously from one foot to the other. His feet were cold and his partner was a merciless taskmaster. As the junior member of the landing party, he was subject to the orders of his superior. He had been warned about the man, but he had never believed it could be as bad as everyone made out. But somehow it was. Not a single scan had been within his tolerance. Faron's opinion had not been requested and the one time he had offered his personal analysis of their subjects he had been summarily dismissed.
Well, he supposed it was to be expected. Unlike his superior, Faron was new to the science staff, new to Starfleet. If he was demanding after 7 years aboard Enterprise, he was probably entitled to have order the junior officers to and fro. Faron stared at his tricorder display silently wishing the man would just relax for a moment.
"Faron!" he shouted from a tree. It was a summons, a command. It made Greg flinch ever so slightly.
"Aye, Sir." He scampered like a first year cadet to the man's side.
"Vhat do you make of zhees?" he said pointing to a small writhing tangle of what appeared to be grubs.
"I dunno, Mr. Chekov. I could make us some lunch if we hadn't already eaten." He smiled brightly at the senior officer hoping the man would at the very least crack a smile.
Chekov's eyes darkened and his brows furrowed in a rather paternal looking frown. "I don't tink so, Mr. Kelly."
"Uh, no sir. I -- was just -- just making a little joke, sir."
Chekov's eyes sparkled with something that Kelly couldn't quite place, as if a memory played before his eyes. Then he remembered himself and his eyes narrowed. "A very little joke, Mr. Kelly." And he gestured with his fingers the size of a pea.
Kelly swallowed hard. "Yes, sir." And he scanned the pile of grubs wishing for the hundreth time that this insufferable mission was over.
* * *
By the time they came to the bottom of the pile, they were thoroughly covered in thick brown goo once again. The heat of the decomposing matter meant their feet were warm and wet but their eyes watered incessantly from the heady fumes. They each shivered in the cold air alternately leaving the muck to breathe clear air and returning to the noxious task both to warm up and to hurry it along.
Spock found the first communicator. Christine found a phaser and a tricorder. Sadly the machinery had been damaged by the goo, although neither could explain how. Starfleet issued only the most durable technology.
Seeing a bit of gold communicator trim poking out, Spock thrust a hand in and pulled it out in pieces. Although whether it was damaged from the chemicals and enzymes or the impact or both it was difficult to say. So far all.
"Two communicators, a phaser and a tricorder and it's all broken." Christine stood shivering near a tree catching her breath. "I don't understand, Spock. It just doesn't make sense. Why would it eat through our clothes and our hair but not our skin? And why is the equipment being effected?"
Spock poked deeper in the same spot that he had retrieved the communicator and came out with a tricorder. A thick slock sound followed as his hand came out with the final piece of equipment. "It is impossible to make a full analysis without more information," he said his bare face contorted slightly with distaste.
Christine shook her head disagreeing with him as she moved forward to take his latest find from him. "There's where you're wrong. Hypotheses are a scientific specialty. Besides there's plenty of raw data," she said pointedly to the muddy equipment with a wry smile.
Spock stepped gingerly from the slippery area to the cleaner forest floor. Leaves and miscellaneous forest debris clung to his feet and ankles. He was already shivering.
"I hypothesize that there is some enzymatic reaction that is interfering with the power cells." She gathered their technologically advanced and presently useless equipment in hand and stopped near the blankets thinking. What was the expression her mother used? Up shit creek without a paddle?
Spock nodded gravely, "That is a possibility. However it is just as likely that the same phyto-silicates that we are tasked to research is concentrated in the plant matter and has bonded to the relays causing the malfunction."
"Or it could be a Romulan plot," she said cheerfully. It was a stab at humor that passed cleanly over Spock's head. She stopped and stared at the blankets for a moment. Then with dismay she looked down at her hands. They were covered with the mess to her shoulders and up her legs to above her bare knees. She glanced at Spock, he was worse off than she was.
It would be a shame to soil their only clothing now when they were finally done.
Spock turned away and bent at the waist hands extended forward. He attempted to wipe some of the sticky film from his fingers onto the green underbrush with little success.
Christine watched him with fascination.
His body was spectacular. Strong sinewy muscle rippled beneath impossibly smooth creamy skin. In the cold air he was flushed golden green. The terrible muck notwithstanding, he looked downright sexy. She almost chuckled at the thought.
It was just so hard to not stare at him. Every inch of his body was bare even the fine hairs that had shimmered so softly across his buttocks. Bent over as he was she could see the loose skin of his testicles from behind. She couldn't remember if she'd ever actually seen him from this angle, but she knew that she would never forget the image. Not a sight that would normally raise her blood pressure she was suddenly preoccupied with the thought of touching that impossibly soft and now hairless skin. The weight of the precious globes in the palm of her hand, his eyes half closed, mouth open in an involuntary gasp…
He rose with a distinctly male sound of frustration. It was an unmistakable growl. He turned to face her hands outstretched in frustration. They were now peppered with bits of green leaf.
Christine started from her reverie and refrained from commenting on how pretty Spock's legs were in their hairless state.
He didn't appear to be feeling very playful.
Of course she knew with wicked certainty that given sufficient time she would be able to restore his mood.
"We should come back for the blankets," Spock suggested gruffly through chattering teeth. His lips were turning light green on the edges.
With a sigh Christine shook her head. She was not willing to leave behind the warmth in light of her Vulcan friend's propensity for hypothermia. "I have an idea."
* * *
"Mr. Chekov!" a hissing whisper came through the underbrush, "Mr. Chekov!"
Pavel lifted his head wearily to face the younger man. He was quickly tiring of the youth's attempts to impress him. Flattery, joking, juvenile comments about the natives, it was all very inappropriate. He shook his head remembering his own attempts to gain approval from the command staff.
He checked his nostalgic smile and walked unhurriedly to the excited ensign. "Vhat it is, Mr. Faron?"
Faron crouched comically low in the thick underbrush and pointed to the water's edge. "There," he hissed.
A pair of humanoids stood thigh high in the icy water of the lake. They appeared to be bathing one another.
It was difficult to make out much detail at their distance, but it was certainly a male and a female. They were totally hairless with some sort of rough fabric turbans on their heads. The female squealed in apparent delight as the male rubbed her back and arms vigorously in the water.
Faron lifted his tricorder to take readings, but Chekov quickly kneeled at his side and stopped him. "They may hear us," he whispered as he continued to watch.
Faron's mouth gaped as he watched the pair touching one another rather intimately as they bathed and talked in low voices. "Awfully chummy, aren't they?" he grinned.
Chekov couldn't help but nod his head in agreement.
The naked man pulled the woman close and slowly laid kisses down her neck, carefully inclining his head so as not to lose the large swath of fabric. The woman made a highly appreciative sound and lifted her leg to wrap it around the man's waist. She was nearly as tall as he was. She gripped his back bracing herself as she leaned back slightly to admit his kisses down her neck as low as he could go without falling. She laughed again, a throaty half moaning sound. The man slid a hand down her uplifted leg to grip her buttocks and he lifted her slightly. With a very significant shift of his hips their sounds changed from playful to more intense.
Chekov cleared his throat softly and then tapped Faron's shoulder. While their mission was biology, it was limited to the flora and the fauna that consumed it. There was no reason to risk being seen by the primitive natives. And of course there was the matter of plain decency.
Faron blushed nervously and scooted on his belly backwards a bit then rose to his feet and silently they crept out of earshot. "I thought the locals were all south," Faron whispered, still nervous that they would hear him.
Chekov shook his head bemusedly. "It's hard to say. Ve didn't see anyone on zhe scans, but obviously zhey've come back."
"What do we do now, sir? Should we move our camp further away from the lake?"
Chekov shook his head. "Not yet. Let's check in with Mr. Spock and Dr. Chapel. Ve can varn zhem about our new neighbors." He flipped open his communicator with a chirp and selected the local channel that was predetermined for landing party use.
When no response came to the simple hail he opened a voice channel. "Chekov to Spock. Chekov to Spock, do you read sir?"
Faron began to look worried. He pulled out his own communicator, then thought better of attempting to contact the doctor. He waited for the signal from Mr. Chekov. After a moment they tried signaling Dr. Chapel.
Chekov's mouth formed a thin line. It was just a short mission. Two nights camping in a tropical paradise kilometers from the inhabitants. What had gone wrong? Were there other natives?
He turned to the young ensign, his eyes hard. With a sigh he nodded to Faron. It was a grim privilege to contact the ship and though he appreciated Mr. Chekov's inexplicable gesture of confidence in him, no one ever wanted to make this call.
"Faron to Enterprise, Faron to Enterprise. Come in, Enterprise. We appear to have an emergency."
* * *
Christine strode carefully up the cold path way to the cave, her mind thoroughly distracted by the image of Spock striding ahead of her. His child-like smooth legs peeked out from below the damp blankets. She had insisted they wrap both of them around him after their icy ablutions. Despite her pleasure in warming him the night before, she preferred not to repeat his hypothermic symptoms if she could help it. Besides they had spent a good deal of time in the water scrubbing off the residue of the day's activities. She would never admit it, but the icy water had chilled her to the bone. The brisk hike up the hill was warming her up nicely.
Her skin tingled even still, although she couldn't say if it was a result of the rough scrubbing with lake sand or the anticipation of the soft warm bed at the top of the hill.
As Spock turned up the zigzag path the blankets shifted slightly where two edges came together and she was rewarded with a peak of the length of his nude body in motion. It was a momentary glimpse, an accidental tease.
Perhaps it was the dimming twilight, or the absolutely hairless state of his skin, but the brief view was breathtaking. His lean form was utterly smooth and slightly golden in the orange and red light, glowing like fire beneath the skin. She felt a very primal response to his beauty and chuckled at the thought of telling him.
Perhaps it would be more effective to tell him that science held that beauty was mathematical, biological. She could tell him of the studies that linked symmetry, health and vibrant color to beauty.
He turned on the path apparently hearing her laugh. In the dim light it was difficult to tell if he raised his hairless eyebrow, but she imagined that he did. The fading sunlight lit his bare head from behind and he shone like an angel, or perhaps a glowed like a demon from her terran mythology. She actually gasped at the image. And this time he did smile slightly.
"Inside, Doctor," he commanded. His voice a velvet hammer of authority and sweet sensuality. She closed her mouth and marched obediently ahead of him, painfully aware of her nakedness and his appreciative scrutiny. Already her body shivered with anticipation. He offered her a hand up the hill as she moved to pass him and despite the cold, she felt a flush of heat at his touch.
She opened the door and moved inside, lifting the lid of the glow basket. The door closed behind her.
She turned to say something, but his piercing gaze stopped her. It was almost impossible to think of him as Spock. He head seemed somehow smaller than normal without his silken black hair. His face as bare as a baby's, no, a fairy child. Not even eyelashes remained. It made his eyes seem larger somehow.
He stepped forward to her and she stumbled backward, not knowing why, just that his movement had startled her for an instant. Her bare buttock impacted the edge of the wooden table and she abruptly sat down on it.
He kept moving forward until he was came to the edge of the table. With slow confidence he slid one knee between hers and gently nudged it aside, his gaze not wavering. She opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her with a gentle finger against her lips. His opposite knee slid her leg aside, spreading her thighs wide.
She smiled slightly and kissed his finger lightly, then took it in her teeth in a playful nip.
He leaned down, resting one hand on each of her knees and kissed her lightly, not taking his eyes from hers. Then he kissed her again firmly, fingers pressing insistently into the warming flesh of her thighs. His hands slid up her body and he pressed her back down onto the table. The sensation of the rough cold wood against her back warred with the warmth of his mouth and the coarseness of the blankets that separated their bodies.
Her hands reached up to lose themselves in the familiar silkiness of his hair only to find the smoothness of skin. It was impossibly smooth, like fine woven cloth. He gasped at the sensation. She imagined that he had never had such an experience.
His tongue sought entry and she parted her lips welcoming him. She felt the tension rising in her belly. In a moment he would ask her and she would only nod breathlessly, yes.
Yes, she wanted to feel him in her, in her body and in her mind. His mouth kissed and nipped and lightly bit her lower lip and she gasped with each new sensation but he did not brush his fingers over her temples.
He kissed her neck and she traced the fine angle of his ear each moaning gently. He kissed her shoulder and down further until he found a breast rising up. She arched her back to him as he sucked harder than he had intended. She cried out in half pleasure and pain. Her hands held firmly to the silken skin of his scalp. He let go of her taut nipple, sucking in his breath over the wet sensitive flesh abruptly cooling it. She shivered.
Lower he kissed slow soft sucking kisses leaving wet spots of ecstasy on her skin. He paused when her abdomen tensed, smooth muscles taut as bowstrings angled on the plane of her belly.
She knew his intention, she felt his trajectory and she could only gasp a panicked, "Spock, I--"
He paused and kissed her navel swirling his tongue in lazy circles round it. His hot breath was the only warning of any movement over her skin. Even the fine hairs of her skin were gone. It was frightening how bare and vulnerable she felt, frightening and delicious.
But his kisses were soft and warm and gentle and after a moment she relaxed again. His hands moved confidently down her sides to slide under her smooth round buttocks. The warmth in his fingers a blessed relief to the cold wood. She squirmed slightly in his grip and moaned again. His mouth kissed lower still until he came to the cleft of her femaleness.
She tensed again lifting her head in alarm in time to see him lower his mouth and softly kiss her. His breath was so warm his lips so soft. She stared in disbelief.
"Please ... don't," she gasped. "You know I don't like … please." But he kissed her gently again and again. Lightly softly. She was confused. She never enjoyed this sort of thing, it just wasn't - but oh! When his warm breath was so - oh!
She leaned her head back unable to keep from moaning now. His kisses went lower bit by bit then crept up again. His mouth was light and soft and after a very short time it was simply not enough and she felt her hips rising up to meet him, pressing into him. Her body needed more. His tongue flicked lightly now just a bit here, just enough there and suddenly his mouth was upon her and it was still not enough. She moaned and gasped and tried to speak but words would not come. And more importantly her release would not either.
The tension seemed to build higher and higher and still it was not enough. She wanted to feel him inside her, needed it more each moment. It was not enough to feel his mouth alone. Her arms ached to feel him, her fingers tingled with desire. She wanted to wrap herself around him, feel his body stretched out over hers, the heat and the strength and the completeness. She moaned again, but it was a gasping cry. Frustration crept in at the edges of the pleasure. If she didn't have him now, she would go mad. Still he kissed her in her innermost depths, his tongue slid deftly over the pearl of her pleasure again and again. Her gasping became soft cries and then anguished she writhed against him and still her release would not come. She needed him, she needed him now.
"Spock!" she cried out and she pulled him up from her and pushed him back toward the bed. "No more, please. I need you. I need to feel you, please."
His mouth glistened with wetness and his eyes shone with pleasure. He was gasping as well. The blanket toga formed a telltale tent at his groin. He nodded his head slightly. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely and reached for the knot in the blanket that she had tied at the lake. His fingers fumbled for an instant.
She stepped impatiently to his aid, pulling at the knot in just the right place. Her body throbbed with desire.
She pulled the blanket free dropped it to the floor and kissed him frantically. His mouth was wet with the salt and sweet of her own body.
It was dizzying. She felt a tingling in the center of her being she was swooning.
Wordlessly he pushed her away, a look of panic in his eyes that she had never seen.
Gasping, confused, she felt a shiver of doubt.
Her mouth gaped in disbelief.
No, it wasn't doubt that fluttered in her belly. It was a dizzying sensation, familiar and frightening at once.
Spots formed before her eyes as she spun to face the door frantically thinking of some way to stop it.
"SHIT!" she shouted and the room dissolved away.
* * *
Captain James Kirk paced the floor of the transporter room, his lips pursed in frustration.
"Did you scout the area where Mr. Spock and Dr. Chapel beamed in?"
"No, sir. The natives were too close to their area. Ve scanned zhe tricorders but found no sign of zhem."
The Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "No sign? Damnit Spock, where are you?"
Faron swallowed hard bolstering his courage to speak to the Captain, "Sir, there were a string of caves just to the east of the lake. We scanned them earlier and they were empty but maybe they've gone there. That's where I would go if I didn't want to attract attention with a fire."
Sulu's voice came over the ship's intercom system. "Sir, we've scanned the caves. No sign of life. No signs of any humanoids for almost 40 kilometers in any direction from the lake."
"Did you try for any kind of bio signs. Mr. Spock's DNA should be easy enough to find on this planet. So should the doctor for that matter."
"We've done that sir, nothing."
"Damnit they couldn't have just disappeared!" The captain slammed a fist on the transporter console. "Scotty, any ideas?"
Mr. Scott was staring intently at Faron's tricorder display. The younger officer had yielded it immediately as per landing party protocol. Scotty's mind was a whirl with theories and hypothesis when he happened upon a bit of information.
"Mr. Scott?" the captain asked again, this time he moved the man's shoulder. "What have we here?" he said looking at the scan on the display.
"Well, Captain, it appears that Mr. Faron's scans hold the key."
Faron blushed and stepped forward, "Sir?"
The captain read the scan intently.
Scotty continued, his fingers pointing to data on the display, "Here, sir. The phyto silicates crystallize in the soil. As they decompose the silicates form wee crystals; mono, di and trilithium crystals. Those caves are shielded from our scans because of the high level of crystallization in the soil. Just a moment an' I'll coax a better scan for ye, Mister Sulu." His fingers flew over the controls like a master musician. The buttons tapped out an almost musical response.
"Give her a try now, Mr. Sulu."
A moment passed, then Sulu's voice was heard "Got 'em sir. Transmitting coordinates now."
"Mr. Scott?" the captain said he turned to face the transporter alcove expectantly.
Scotty slid his hands once more over the controls with practiced ease.
The transporter mechanism hummed and whirred and for a moment it seemed the two would appear. Five seconds, ten seconds. The captain turned to face the engineer again.
"Aye, it's the crystals. Just a moment, sir." He tapped again, adjusted and re calibrated. Then the lights dimmed slightly and the alcove was a light with the familiar bright light of energy patterns coalescing and swirling. Slowly the forms of Spock and Christine took shape on the pad.
"SHIT!" came a shout from the doctor as she solidified before the Captain. Her hands flew up and covered her breasts and groin areas in embarrassed dismay and she stepped gallantly in front of Mr. Spock to help cover his nakedness as well. It was a respectful distance from the Vulcan, but a nervous jump nonetheless.
The entire transporter room was stunned into utter silence. They were motionless as well. For a long moment it seemed that no one would say anything at all.
Then the doors burst open and McCoy rushed in with a medical team. He slid to a halt and gaped at the hairless pair on the transporter pad. Christine was blushing furiously and inexplicably trying to shield the others from seeing the first officer.
"What in the Sam Hill happened to you two?" he said raising a scanner and checking them for biological hazards. After a moment a nurse brought forward blankets from the gurney. McCoy nodded his clearance and stepping up onto the pad handed one to each of them. He looked expectantly at Christine.
Christine looked panicked. She turned to look at Spock but he seemed placid about the whole situation.
He took the blanket and wrapped it around his waist easily, no sign of any of his earlier activities.
Christine watched him. A look of disbelief on her face that the others could not understand. She cursed his Vulcan bio control silently as she looked at the Doctor and then to the Captain and back to the Doctor.
McCoy folded his arms waiting for an explanation.
She drew herself up, her annoyance spilled out, "Would you believe a giant sloth took a monumental--"
"Doctor." Spock's voice was calm but insistent. "Emotionalism will not help the situation."
She looked at him carefully, her eyes narrowed slightly, she turned to Leonard once again, "Let's just say we may have discovered the most effective depilatory the galaxy has ever known," ahe offered, then pulling the blanket tighter around herself she huffed with exasperation. "I need a shower." And she moved towards the door.
Spock nodded his concurrence and turned to McCoy, "As do I. Doctor, are we released to our quarters?"
"Not so fast, you two, I want you in sickbay to get to the bottom of this. Ensign Kelly, you go to the Doctor and First Officer's quarters and get some suitable clothing for these two." The young man nodded and departed with Faron at his side. McCoy wheeled on the newly returned landing party and his eyes narrowed with a look that brooked no complaint, "You two are with me."
The captain chuckled at the scene but waved them off to the care of the Doctor.
He'd have to wait for the full report in the morning.
* * *
Christine looked at her mission report on her screen again, her cheeks burning with the memories of their short jaunt.
She checked for errors a hundred times and still hadn't sent it to the Captain. She couldn't say why. It was just that she felt like she was cheating somehow. Of course all the pertinent information was there, the sloth, the fecal matter, the cave, but she knew that Spock would be asking her again.
Why was she so afraid to tell everyone? It wasn't as if it would be a huge shock. They had been beamed in naked. How much lower could their opinions of her be?
No one had actually believed it was Spock and Christine that had been at the lake.
Of course it was awfully convenient that Sulu found a band of 8 locals camped down the hill from the caves. It was just dumb luck, he said, that they had not discovered Spock and Christine in their caves.
She preferred to think of it as luck. She hated the idea of them being spied on by the natives while she and Spock had been in the water.
What had Leonard said? Naked as a "J" bird? Leonard had a field day with that one. Nekkid as a babe in its mother's arms, he'd said. Exposing themselves to nature, he'd said. Giving it all for the mission. It had been an excruciating 20 minutes of exam time. Fortunately he had given her a dermal regenerator to use in the privacy of their quarters, insisting only on doing their eyebrows and eyelashes.
As miraculous as it was to have the hair sprout under the gently throbbing beam, she was reluctant to use it anymore. It may make the hair grow phenomenally fast, but it also itched like crazy. She had managed a scarce inch and a half over the whole of her scalp when she had had to stop. Of course for the next week the hair would grow faster than normal. She supposed she could live with a radically short hair do for a week or so.
She gazed down her open robe wondering if she should use the regenerator on any other parts of her body. She had never really thought of shaving her hair, it grew soft and fine and had never been an issue. She shivered slightly at the memory of Spock's mouth and her cheeks burned again in embarrassment. Shirking her duties, engaging in unladylike activities on an away mission. She wondered if that was an actual charge that could be leveled against her.
Not that it was exactly unladylike. At least if you believed what all the other ladies had to say about it. Even Ny had talked about it with incomprehensible fondness. Jokes about a man's tongue were as common as jokes about his hands in her youth at the Academy. It was something she just couldn't understand. She wasn't particularly prudish. Nor did she find the idea of oral stimulation offensive. Quite the contrary, it was an activity she found great pleasure in - when she was on the giving end. It was simply that she didn't appreciate receiving it.
Or at least she never had before.
Damn that Spock. Leave it to him to bring out the desires that she didn't even know she had.
As if summoned by her thought her door buzzed. She pulled her robe closed and rose to meet him in the alcove of her quarters. No reason to believe it could be anyone else.
It was late, 2200 or so. He moved easily into her quarters and took her into his arms.
She kissed him softly and leaned back inspecting his hair. It was short, very short. But his Vulcan control had allowed him to coax much more hair from his scalp. Of course she imagined by the end of the week it would be to his shoulders if he didn't cut it. Which he naturally would do, every day - at lunchtime to be exact.
His eyebrows were thin lines that seemed almost painted on. He inhaled her hair deeply and whispered her name in her ear, "Christine."
She melted into him as she always did when he spoke her name. "Spock," she answered in his ear.
"I apologize for the interruption earlier," he said deadpan. "Perhaps we could- -?" He leaned back slightly and gazed significantly to her sleeping alcove.
She smiled wickedly at him and pulled him to her bunk, "I think that's a very good idea. A soft bed, warm and clean, just what the doctor ordered."
He pulled his duty jacket off and deposited it with practiced ease on the chair that always sat at the foot of her bed.
Christine stopped him from removing his shirt and when he opened his mouth to protest she stopped him with a finger against his lips. He cocked an eyebrow and bit her finger gently. She giggled and pushed him back onto the bed.
"Your turn, mister!" she said and with single-minded purpose tugged at his waistband and loosened his trousers, tugging them open. She held his gaze with a challenging stare, but he only lay back and submitted to her insistent assault.
She kissed him gently, but was impatient to kiss lower. Wanted to feel him in her mouth, wanted him to know the torture of her gentle touch. She kissed his neck, smooth and soft. Slid down his body catlike, pulling his shirt up slightly, kissing his still hairless navel. When she swirled her tongue in slow circles she felt him sigh. She kissed his hip and his thigh, still smooth as her own, the heat of his maleness silken against her cheek.
She glanced up at him and saw him lift his head to meet her eyes. She smiled again and suggestively wet her lips. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly at her tease and he lifted a thin brow not quite challenging her.
She lowered her head and kissed the very tip ever so lightly. His eyes seemed to glaze over a bit. She kissed him again, more firmly with wet soft lips. His mouth slackened slightly and his eyes became more intense. She drew her tongue up the full length of him in a slow wet lick. He made a small sound that was more than a sigh and not quite a moan.
She licked her lips again, letting her breath torture him for a moment more.
She leaned down slowly.
And the door buzzed.
"Chris? It's Ny. Are you awake?"
Spock jumped up, Christine jumped up. She stumbled on the edge of her robe and fell hard on the deck, her backside impacting loudly enough to certainly be heard in the corridor.
Spock was on his feet, arranged and heading for the door. She grabbed his arm and frantically pointed to the bathroom. She mouthed, "I'll get rid of her." And turned to the door.
"Chris? Are you okay?" the intercom spoke again this time with worry.
The bathroom door opened for Spock as he approached. Christine buzzed the front door of her cabin and she was certain she heard something she thought she would never hear.
The door of the bathroom closed even as the door to her cabin opened. Ny stood in the hall bemused. "What?!" she said with a touch of outrage.
Surely she couldn't have heard. Christine wasn't sure she had heard it.
Christine smiled, "Ny. What are you doing up so late?"
Ny entered a step inside her room.
She could see it from the door, there on the chair, there at the foot of her bed. "Shit!" she said echoing what Spock had surely not said.
"Well, I thought I'd come see if you were alright, but I see you've got company. So I guess I'll go," she said loudly, then she leaned forward and whispered, "You didn't have to let me in. Next time don't answer."
Christine blushed furiously, tried to deny it but it was no use. Uhura was already on her way out. "G'night Chris. See you in the morning." She stepped back into the corridor "Or maybe at lunch?" and she winked wickedly.
The door closed and Christine nearly collapsed.
Spock came from the bathroom looking mortified but amused.
Christine wanted to send him away just to avoid another close call, but he only folded his arms in an 'I told you so' fashion. It was just one more reason to tell them, his eyes said.
Before she could protest he spoke, "To bed." It was a command like the one that he had used on the planet.
"Spock, maybe you should--" she began.
"To bed!" he repeated.
She smiled at his forcefulness and reached up and locked her cabin door.
"Yes, sir!" she said and saluted in high military fashion.
And the two were thankfully not disturbed again for the rest of the night.
* * *
"Drops of Jupiter"
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
with drops of Jupiter in her hair.
She acts like summer and walks like rain
reminds me that there's time to change.
Since the return from her stay on the moon
she listens like spring and she talks like June.
Tell me did you sail across the sun
did you make it to the Milky Way
to see the lights all faded
and that heaven is overrated.
Tell me, did you fall for a shooting star
one without a permanent scar
and did you miss me while you
were looking at yourself out there?
Now that she's back from that soul vacation
tracing her way through the constellation.
She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo
reminds me that there's time to grow.
Now that she's back in the atmosphere
I'm afraid that she might think of me as plain ol' Jane
told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly
so he never did land.
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet
did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
and head back to the Milky Way.
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find
and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken.
Your best friend always sticking up for you.
Even when I know you're wrong.
Can you imagine no first dance,
freeze dried romance
five-hour phone conversation the best soy latte
that you ever had . . . and me?
Tell me did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day
and head back toward the Milky Way?
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find
and did you miss me while
you were looking for yourself out there?